


Final Moments

by Icelandic_Flutterby



Series: The Sack of Doriath [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Familial Love, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath, do not copy to another side, fem! Caranthir, fem! Celegrom, mentions of sindarin elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icelandic_Flutterby/pseuds/Icelandic_Flutterby
Summary: At the kinslaying of Doriath, three Finweans die. Morifinwë Carnistir was one of them.
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë & Curufin | Curufinwë
Series: The Sack of Doriath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614445
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Final Moments

Carnistir gagged, and forced herself to keep her mouth closed. Her left hand she lifted her face - hoping, perhaps, that it ́d help her in her self appointed task. Her right hand she wrapped around the spear, located just between the gut and the chest. The pressing need to breath was overwhelming, and she could no longer keep her mouth closed - she coughed, and the blood and spittle in her mouth splattered on her hands and the elf in front of her and on her chin and clothes. She spluttered, wheezed, tried to gasp in air. 

Trembling with the effort, she lowered her left hand to try and grasp the dagger still sheathed in her belt. She would not lose like this, she thought to herself, struggling to pull it out. She would not die like this. The Sinda, horrified at what they’d done, backed away, too quickly for Carnistir to enact her revenge. She cursed silently, but conceded to herself that perhaps this was better; at least then she wouldn ́t waste her energy, which she needed if she was to survive. 

Dropping the dagger, she put both hands on the spear and made an experimental tug. Her vision blackened instantly, and she ceased her actions. She bit her lip, preventing a moan of pain from escaping, and tried again. Slowly would not be the way to do this, not in these circumstances; no she did this as fast as she could.  
Her vision went black, and the pain was overwhelming. She grit her teeth. She would not die like this, she wouldn’t. 

She woke up, a minute later, to a scream. Her limbs were numb, her breathing shallow, her heart rate too slow. She could see Tyelkormo fighting, and made to join her when she saw what had enraged her older sister. Curufinwë lay near her, a dagger in his throat, eyes glassy. She distantly noted that Nimloth lay nearby him, unnaturally still, but spared no thought for it. 

Carnistir struggled to her knees, too weak to fully stand up, and crawled to Curufinwë. When she reached him she turned her head away from him to cough wetly, the effort to move to him so difficult. She paid no heed to the blood leaking out of her. With a trembling hand, she reached out to her baby brother, and pulled a stray lock of hair from his face. 

It was at this moment that she realised she could hear his whimpers. He was still alive, for now. “Shh.” She hushed him, “shh.” Her eyes filled with tears, she did the only thing she could do to try and help - soothe him. “´S alright,” she choked out, “´s ok. It’s all gon’ be ´k.” She gasped out.

She was uncertain about the truth of this statement. She didn’t know what would happen to them in death, and he was clearly too far gone to live. It was at this moment that she knew neither would she. She’d not leave her little brother to such an uncertain fate, not alone. Her will no longer bent towards her survival, she could feel her strength fail her. No matter, she didn’t need strength to soothe Curufinwë, her presence would be enough. 

They were both dead by the time that Tyelkormo fell backwards, a blade plunged into her breast.


End file.
